We are talking about the Hereford Salon with two couples—a collector and his wife, and a painter and his wife. We go into some operational details pertaining to the most active period of the Salon, from 1995 to 1998. For instance, we mention that the publications have helped offset the costs of running the Salon, but that the ideal of breaking even in this line of our work has never been reached. Lauren and I pass the word from one to another quite seamlessly. We behave like partners. But then she asks a rhetorical question: “And who pays for all this?” She looks around the table: “I do!” Of course, she knows that I have covered one half of the costs, especially in the most active period. She knows I have all the accounts showing who has paid for what, as well as who has brought how much to this partnership. Still, in the crucial moment the Annenberg strain overcomes her once again. And what do I do? Nothing. I just sit there. Complaining about money at such a social occasion always looks pitiful. Besides, the collector knows she is an Annenberg. Instinctively, Lauren knows I am powerless when we are in polite society.